It Will Be Our Secret
by 2whitie
Summary: Artemis made his mother a promise: he would tell her everything. Set directly after the events of TTP. Canon-compliant/Originally published in the AF fanzine In a Fowl Mood


**A/N This originally appeared in the Artemis Fowl Fanzine, **_**In a Fowl Mood. **_**Although the creators have been given the go-ahead to release their material, please consider purchasing a PDF, as all of the proceeds not used in the creation of the zine go to Make-A-Wish. And as always, everything belongs to Colfer.**

"_Now we will give your father and the twins time to hug me and kiss me, then you and I are going to have a talk. It will be our secret."_

_-Artemis Fowl and The Time Paradox, page 385 (U.S Edition)_

At some point in every writer's career, they are sat down and informed in no uncertain terms that they are never to begin in a story with the phrase, "It was a dark and stormy night." It was derivative, it was cheesy, it was for hacks who knew no better.

That said, it was a dark and stormy night.

Such fabled conditions did not visibly bother the Fowls. Gargoyles spat water away from the estate's thick walls as if their angry lives depended on it, and centuries of torrents had carved custom aqueducts into the stone. Combined with a home-repair budget flush with gold as its inhabitant's motto would suggest, storm damage generally resisted rearing its watery head.

Unfortunately, no amount of money or influence can provide a barrier against the temperamental creep of a storm's mood. During any Dark and Stormy Night, erratic bursts of lightning crackled down the Manor's dark hallways and thunder rumbled ominously throughout the high ceilings, making the air humid with unease. Atmospheric, haunting, a shroud for secrets.

Perfect for the Fowls.

One Dark and Stormy night, when Artemis was nine, when fairy tales were just tales, when rainy days didn't ooze the melancholy of innocence corroded, he found he rather enjoyed curling up inside crushed velvet chairs, the types that were only comfortable when you were small enough to completely fold up inside them. It was a brilliant spot to watch sheets of rain search for weaknesses in the window frames or simply let the asymmetrical rivulets provide an all-natural backdrop for thinking. Even better, the rain created a damp blanket of air that had a habit of drawing Artemis Fowl Sr. out of his study and into the chair across from his son, usually with a well-creased novel and an endless surplus of character voices.

The night before the Fowl Star succumbed to the waves had been such a night. The rain had thrown itself against every entrance to the Manor, some of it trying to prevent the elder Fowl from leaving the house, the rest weeping for the future. Equally practical and superstitious Artemis Fowl Sr refused to fight the gloom that the Dark and Stormy Night had cast over the house; the minute the lid flipped shut on his suitcase, he found himself in a chair across from the eager eyes of his only child, a horror novel between his hands.

"This is a special book," he told his son. "With a special lock. It's a lock I crafted myself, to make sure that this book only opens on certain days."

Artemis the younger squinted suspiciously. "I don't see any lock."

Fowl Sr shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. "My, my. I thought I'd taught you better. You'll waste all those smarts if you don't pay careful attention. This is a _special _lock." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "You see, this lock is mental. You can only allow yourself to unlock its grip on the book during a storm such as this, or a night even louder. Scary stories were never meant to be told in the light of day. They're told in order to help you pull the edges of darkness even closer, to let you feel what daylight repels. Now, can you furnish such a lock for me? For this book?"

His young son nodded cautiously. "I don't see why not."

His father cleared his throat and opened the book. "Alright then. As long as we're in agreement."

It was a choice of impulse, a book about a home much like the Fowl Manor of the future, with a chilling promise that, "Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone, and whatever walked there, walked alone." Impulse turned out to be prophecy, and the next night, under a shroud of mourning, silence engulfed Fowl Manor, and Artemis Fowl the Second strode through its halls alone.

Depending on who you asked, it had either been four or seven years since that particular Dark and Stormy night. Outwardly, the manor hadn't changed all that much, but the innards had gone through something resembling a revolution. Artemis Fowl Sr had been rescued from the Mafia, Angeline from her mind. Beckett and Myles had energetically joined the family's ranks, and Artemis Fowl Jr had managed to pick a fight with an entire mythological civilization, steal magic, pass Inorganic Chemistry, and cause many an international incident-all equally traumatising. It was because of said changes that storms had morphed from natural brooding music to an opportunity to splash in puddles. It was because of said changes that two Fowls agreed to sit down and have an honest talk.

The house shivered, and it wasn't from the storm.

While on the subject of clearing up the Fowl's timeline-an extremely convoluted subject for Artemis Fowl the Second-one may find it interesting to know that it had been exactly two days since Lovecraft the Kracken (a name picked by Artemis and immediately shot down by Foaly), had decided that getting blown to kingdom come wasn't in the job description of a Second Sister Impersonator, so he had packed his bags and hightailed it to who-knows-where. It was an understandable career move. Much like a certain Mulch Diggums, the only tasks Krackens were really qualified for were sitting on their butts and farting.

Beyond adding a bit of color, this is important, because it highlights the fact that it had been exactly two days since Artemis Fowl had promised his mother a full explanation of all fairy-related shenanigans.

Contrary to how it may seem, Artemis was not avoiding his mother, even though, admittedly, avoidance was a pretty popular tactic in the Fowl family playbook. Beckett had once lived in the ventilation system for three days to avoid the consequences of using Juliet's bed as a raft in the Manor's pond. He didn't leave for _anything_-not even the restroom. One of Artemis's great-great uncles had a habit of hiding himself in the foyer's decorative suits of armor until his wife calmed down from her pretty justifiable wrath, and legend had it that after ticking off his sister, Vladmir Fowl changed his name and fled to Eastern Europe, never to be seen in daylight again.

Following generations didn't bother following up on him. They didn't really want to know.

No, Artemis Fowl didn't run from his problems. Besides the uncomfortable fact that his athletic ability was on par with the average nursing home resident, he felt that playing an extended game of hide-and-seek with his mother was beneath him. Artemis Fowl wasn't running from his promised confession; he was taking a thirty-six hour nap on it. As it turned out, three straight days of life-threatening situations really took it out of you.

It was Butler who eventually found him, crumpled in an exhausted heap on top of his covers with his shoes still on and tie looped rather dangerously around his neck. Exerting his rights as guardian, the hulking bodyguard made the executive decision to unloop the tie from around the teen's neck and cut power to the room. Artemis might whine about it later, but the manservant didn't care-he had strong feelings regarding self-care anytime something like the magical equivalent of the O.K Corrall went down. In fact, Holly could probably expect a gift card to Haven's spa in the next day or so.

When Artemis finally awoke, he awoke to blackness. He awoke to a Dark and Stormy Night.

It took a minute to extricate himself from the uneven mountain of pillows he'd passed out on, and a minute more for his limbs to unglue themselves from the odd position he'd unconsciously forced them into.

It was nice, he thought, to feel completely refreshed, to not have a constant cloud of exhaustion eating away at the corners of the mind. Refreshed, safe, completely himself. The one and only.

The vague outline of a breakfast tray emerged from the blackness of the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Good old Butler, he thought gratefully. Taking care of me even after a heart attack. Fairy rations were fine for a while, but real carbs, protein, and dairy-he felt like weeping. He laid waste to an entire sandwich before even thinking about turning on the lights…and they didn't work.

Butler.

Normally he would go hunting for the power switch without a further thought, but he was too hungry to fix the problem immediately. A cold mug of Lady Grey washed another sandwich and a few painkillers down before he felt around for his mobile.

This is going to be one full inbox, thought Artemis morosely, seeing the date on the calendar. The cost of nearly two day's absence.

As usual, he was correct. Fowl Industries memos aside, there was a cluster of messages from Number One about how JayJay had announced his entrance to Haven by peeing on Mulch, a voicemail from Juliet demanding information about Butler's heart attack., and Foaly testily informing him about the charges IA wanted to bring against Holly. There was also a general LEP update concerning Opal's escape, forwarded to him in a rare moment of cooperation from Commander Kelp.

There were also ten emails from a Nigerian prince wanting his help, but that was beside the point.

Artemis knew he should feel furious at his nemesis's escape, but muted exasperation was the only emotion that he could fish out. Foaly built excellent tech, and it really was no surprise that someone as clever and daring as Opal could manipulate it to escape a pile of debris, even a pile as large as the one Artemis had dumped on her. The fact that she had been scared away from Fowl Manor for the foreseeable future was the only thing that truly mattered. All he could do was prepare, and that began with returning power to his room.

He slipped into a pair of pajamas left at the foot of his bed, padded into the hallway, and flipped the switch that controlled power to his room. A security risk for sure, but the Fowls that installed the home's electrical system weren't nearly as clever as the ones who fought water damage.

Even if his phone hadn't given the time away, it would have been obvious that everyone was sleeping. The corridors were silent-not serial-killer-on-the-loose silence, but not lull-in-the-chaos sort of silence either, (the characterization given to most post Myles and Beckett-silences). A Dark and Stormy Night was the only thing that could bring on this kind of sleep, this kind of silence.

Thunder crashed through the halls, and the Irish genius's eye twitched.. Between the noise of the storm and his recent Rip Van Winkle impression, there would be no going back to bed.

More food it was.

Normally, Artemis tended to give the Manor's (i.e Butler's) kitchen a wide berth. He wasn't _banned _per se, but most visits-most notably the unfathomable Panini Incident of '09-tended to end with the arrival of the fire department.

Complete electrical failure of three ovens aside, Artemis was perfectly capable of pulling a carton of green tea ice cream out of the freezer and scooping the cold treat into a bowl. Before managing more than a single spoonful, a series of shuffles broke the warm silence around him. Artemis didn't bother to look; footfalls gave identities away faster than fingerprints.

"Butler. Is your chest doing any better?"

The huge bodyguard ambled past him and grabbed a container of strawberries from the fridge. It was clear he hadn't slept well, if at all. "I can't say I would be up to anything too strenuous, but I'm doing fine. I'm certainly doing better than the last time my heart stopped."

"Brecon Beacons?" asked Artemis, somewhat familiar with his guardian's past.

"Brecon Beacons," confirmed Butler. He started slicing up the red fruit. "I asked Holly for a quick run-down on what exactly happened in between Opal getting me at the airport and the mess I returned to, but she just said something about a time stream and to ask you."

"I don't think she said much to Foaly either," Artemis mused. "He told me something about her needing time to process everything that happened before she was up for writing a report."

Butler's eyebrows shot up. Holly was a good cop who knew the importance of writing reports while the details were still fresh. It was quite possibly the one rule she actually followed."That bad?"

Artemis slumped a little. "Neither of us were at our best. Physically or mentally. You know how timestreams mess with bodies."

Butler rummaged around in the cabinets until he found a glass bowl to place the strawberry slices in. He was thinking berry crepes for breakfast. "You know, I heard that some program in the FBI was messing around with the possibility of time travel. Apparently, some of the latest subjects ended up with some parts that weren't all that human."

Artemis barely resisted to urge to rub his hazel eye. Pity he and Holly hadn't re-swapped in the time-stream. He was going to have to apply for a driver's license soon, and he was not looking forward to explaining his newly acquired heterochromia. "Relatable. I don't suppose I can give them a call, set up a support group?"

"That was one of my first questions, you know," said a soft voice from the doorway. "How that eye switch happened. I'll get used to it, I suppose, but I'll miss how identical you and your father's eyes were." She paused. "Reading your face was just like reading your father's."

Butler froze, and Artemis finally gave into the temptation of rubbing his temples. "Mother. I thought everyone had gone to bed."

Out of habit, Butler offered up a slice of strawberry. Angeline took it and nodded her thanks before settling onto a stool across from her eldest son. "About twenty minutes ago that was true. Before you ask, your father is still asleep and so are the twins, although I don't know how—the thunder is so loud I half-expected them to come crawling into our bed by now."

The three of them sat in silence for a while, letting the patter of raindrops fill in for conversation.

"Remember when you were two, and you were too afraid of the thunder to sleep in your own room?" asked Angeline, somewhat randomly.

Artemis's mouth quirked into a twist of fond nostalgia. "You sat me down and explained to me that thunder was simply the angels bowling up inside the heavens, and that the especially loud cracks meant that one of them had bowled a strike."

His mother nodded. "Do you remember what I said when you came back a few years later with a diagram explaining how the vibration of air particles was what really caused thunder? How insistent you were about wanting to know everything I knew?"

Artemis suddenly knew exactly where this was going. "Yes."

"And do you remember what I told you after that?"

Artemis looked down into his bowl. "That seventy percent of the world is known, twenty percent of the world is yet to be explored, and ten percent will never be explained. The sliver of the world that lives in the ten percent gives meaning to the other ninety percent."

There was another bout of silence, a few more strikes in the sky.

Artemis cleared his throat uncomfortably and glanced at Butler. "She knows."

Hurriedly, Butler rearranged his face into a calm mask. "She knows what?"

"Not a lot," said Angeline, in a tone much calmer and much more dangerous than Butler's. "Just what that horrid creature left. Enough to want an explanation into some of that twenty percent."

"I will tell you everything," Artemis reiterated. "But some of it will have to wait. It has...its been a long three years. Six years for you, I suppose."

Angeline Fowl knew a poor deal when she heard it. "On the condition that Butler stays. I don't think I'd be wrong in assuming he is fully clued into what you've been up to-,"

Butler made a gesture that Angeline took to mean _yes_ but actually meant _possibly. _

"-To ensure that you leave nothing out."

Artemis nodded. "That seems fair."

Privately, Butler had hoped to slip away. Artemis wasn't the only one with egg on his face in these matters.

Artemis took an uncertain breath. "You know, before Russia, Father had a rule about scary stories."

Neither his mother nor Butler interrupted. Artemis Fowl getting to the point without any kind of oratorical meandering was a sure sign of the apocalypse.

"Before he read me anything even remotely frightening, he made me promise to put an imaginary lock on it, a lock whose only key was a storm. I think he said it to give those stories some sense of exclusivity. Special occasions only, you know? But when I asked, he said that scary stories need a storm to be told the way they were meant to be told. By themselves, scary stories are supposed to help you use the darkness to see humans better, pull Hell closer, detect what daylight softens. And what are storms but an elemental, psychological attack? What right did humans have to yank the stage that nature provided away?"

"Your father is a dead man," said Angeline, quite fairly.

"Your version was the only one I remembered," said Artemis quickly. "Until now."

Out of Angeline's sightline, Butler rolled his eyes.

"I only brought it up because I feel as if I did the same with my fairy stories. I took chunks out of my life, my childhood, and mentally locked them up without creating a key. I...I don't even know where to start. I mean, if I were to ever write a set of memoirs on just the fairy stuff, I could fill at least six books. Maybe eight. There's..there's a lot."

Behind him, the manservant took the hint. "I wouldn't mind you starting with what went down tonight. I leave for the tarmac and find you and your ten-year-old-self getting into a showdown with Opal over a lemur. I'll not lie. That was a new one."

Artemis threw a grateful look at his bodyguard for the lifeline. " I suppose that's as good of a place to start as any."

He deliberately made eye contact with his mother. "I am not the hero for most of this story. There are definite times where I am undoubtedly the villain of the piece."

Angeline didn't move, just listened.

"Two nights ago, I called Holly to ask for a magical healing."

"Holly?" asked his mother, rifling through the disparate memories grafted into her mind. "The red-head?"

"Yes," confirmed her son. "Captain Holly Short. A good friend. The best. Better than I deserve."

She was about to reflexively deny that, but Butler made a face that said _Eh, fair _so Angeline decided not to pursue that particular remark until later.

"Wait," said Butler, holding up a single finger. "Did you meet Holly?"

Angeline shrugged carelessly, a gesture often echoed by her son. "We never met. It's as if there's a filing cabinet of sorts in here," she rubbed the back of her head ruefully, "but the key to unlocking it is someone else acknowledging the contents. It's odd."

Butler raised his eyebrows. That didn't sound like any side-effect of the _mesmer _that he had ever heard of. Then again, Opal had been using magic outside the normal fairy repertoire of invisibility, healing, and hypnotism.

"I'm sorry," said Artemis, almost too quiet to be heard. "My decisions led her here. To you."

Angeline's green eyes turned to slits. "Unless you personally asked her to come here, trash the Manor, and attack everyone inside, I don't want to hear another word on that front. Knowing you, you have enough to actually feel guilty about. That shouldn't be one of them."

Artemis nodded, but Butler read disagreement in his eyes.

For as smart as that boy is, Butler mused, it's amazing he sees such a gap between himself, his father, and Angeline. Sure, he wore his father's twin gifts of iron will and a deep sense of cunning on his sleeves, but his determination to preserve his family, the talent to simply _understand _people—it was pure Angeline. Mother, father, son, all made of the same indomitable stuff.

Finally, Artemis decided to continue the story. "Holly and Foaly-he's a centaur-diagnosed Mother with Spelltropy. It was the People's answer to Bubonic plague."

Butler ate a few strawberries out of secondhand stress. Part of being Artemis Fowl's bodyguard was being an excellent audience who provided all the right reactions.

Artemis took another spoonful of ice-cream, getting into the storytelling rhythm. "The only cure came from the brain fluid of the Silky Sifaka lemur, a fluid that also happens to be a magic enhancer that allows time travel," he said giving Butler a rather significant look. "Guess who used to control the entire population of Silky Sifakas?"

Angeline knew, although she kept quiet, electing to let Artemis tell the story the way he wanted. Next to her, Butler sighed. "Koboi."

Artemis pointed his spoon at him. "Koboi."

As the official life partner of Artemis Fowl, Butler was used to being forced to put two and two together, even when it was totally unnecessary. This time, however, it didn't take much effort. "Right. So, you convinced Number One—that's why he was here—to open a portal into the past so you could grab the last monkey-,"

"Lemur," said Artemis and Angeline together.

"-_Lemur _of that speciesin existence and get the cure. But then you realized that it was actually a free-for-all for the monkey-,"

"Lemur."

-_lemur, _and the teams were you and Holly, your younger self and my younger self, Kronski, and Opal Koboi. How am I doing?"

Artemis stole a strawberry from Butler's pile. "If you toss Mulch in the mix, that sums it up quite neatly. Needless to say, it wasn't pretty, and it is very possible that a particular alias of mine has gained a lifetime ban from Morocco. On balance, I should probably avoid that part of the world as a whole for the next few years anyway. Just in case."

Butler barely resisted from holding his head in his hands. "Okay. And at some point-feel free to stop me when I start getting stuff wrong—things get so desperate that you decide that it's better to roll the dice with the time space continuum, and team up with your younger self. And that's when you got back."

Artemis spread his hands out dramatically. "You know the rest."

"Wait a second," Angeline said, hands raised in surrender. "Go back. Way back. You've met with that demented...pixie before?

Artemis and Butler looked at each other, then said in unison, "We've met."

Butler put his head in his hands. "I hate this. I hate this so much."

"By the way, she escaped from the pile of Kracken I dumped on her. Who knows where she is at this point," said Artemis blithely.

It was a good thing that the thunder was suddenly particularly loud because Angeline's response to Opal's escape was unprintable.

"Right," said Angeline to nobody in particular, after the conveniently timed thunder had finished its roll and some angel cheered their spare. "The fairies. Them. Once they catch up to Opal-they'll be able to hold her?"

"Hopefully."

"Probably not."

Angeline swung around to Butler, who realized his mistake too late. "Probably not?"

"Fairy security is kinda hit or miss. It lands somewhere on the spectrum of 'Able to hide from the entirety of the human race' or 'A dwarf with sass and G.I. issues can escape their top prison.'"

Angeline closed her eyes. "Artemis. Promise me you will not go searching for her. I need you to promise me this. I cannot have another night like the one two nights ago."

Despite the soothing texture of the ice cream, Artemis suddenly found his throat a bit scratchy. "Of course."

"Also, I'm really going to need an in-depth explanation about the eye."

Artemis winced. "Accident involving different dimensions," he said, really regretting that he couldn't just undo the Mesmer he'd performed upon his return from Hybras. That way, Butler's explanation could be thrown under the bus. Unlike avoidance, he was a dedicated student of the fine art of under-the-bussing. Foaly really was an excellent teacher. People still thought Area 51 was the U.S military. "Things don't always rearrange themselves correctly. Holly has my eye."

For an absurd moment, Butler had a vision of one of the young master's eyeballs just floating in between dimensions, having adventures.

I need help, Butler thought.

Artemis prevented an uncomfortable silence by scraping the bottom of the bowl much louder than necessary. "The three years I was gone. My disappearance from Taipei 101. How I got the magic for the spell I put on you and Father. It was all the same accident."

There was a deadly silence.

"Did you know?" asked Angeline. "Did you even have a clue that you would be gone for three years?"

Artemis shook his head miserably. "Theoretically, I could have acknowledged the possibility, but no. At the time, I thought it was the only way to prevent either my death or a mass tragedy. I don't know what I would have done had I known the outcome."

For the first time that night, Angeline felt certainty at her core, and this time, it was she who adjusted how she was sitting so that she was looking at her eldest son in the eye. "Even if you had known, you would have done the same thing."

Something unusual flashed in her son's mismatched eyes. "No. I didn't want-,"

"You would have done it," said Angeline with a bit of finality. "You would have done it, because for all of your smarts, the discipline you are the most intimate with is the willingness to sacrifice. I don't know what you did to get your father back, and I don't know what made you think that forcing everyone to forget your absence was the best way to forge forward. But I do know that in the process, you sacrificed everything from your innocence to the ability to talk about it. And I think if you were in the same position again, you wouldn't hesitate to make the decision between three years of your life and the lives of everyone in Taipei 101."

Artemis's eyes swam, and for a moment, Angeline thought she saw something in his mismatched eyes shine. But then the moment was gone, and both eyes returned to their customary hardness. "Maybe," he allowed. "Maybe."

He looked as if he were going to say something else, but Angeline placed a hand on his arm, stopping him more effectively than any rebuke ever could. "We did agree that we didn't have to go over everything tonight, and right now, that's probably for the best."

She gently took the bowl out from underneath him and began walking to the kitchen's massive sink. "I'll want to know more about that spell. And we will undoubtedly have a completely separate long and hard talk about it. There might be a little anger. But before we go into all that, I want to make sure you know that whatever you did, no matter whose story you are the villain of, you already have my forgiveness in the matter. And I have no doubt that if your father is ever let into the loop, he will say the same."

She nodded at Butler, gave Artemis a single kiss on the forehead, then glided out of the room, as silently as she entered.

Artemis watched her until the door closed, then turned to Butler, who offered him a strawberry. "I doubt she'll say the same thing once she hears about the siege. Or the Cube."

Butler shrugged. "I would argue that I was the one most affected by the Cube incident. And I've already forgiven you. So has Holly. A long time ago."

Before the conversation devolved into a further state of angst, Artemis quickly changed the subject in an attempt to shake the weight of the conversation off. "It feels like we just finished telling a round of ghost stories, tall tales that hit a little too close to home."

"You mean fairy tales?" asked Butler, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"Ha," said Artemis, completely unamused. "You know those conversations that feel as if they took place in a dream? Where any recollections of them have a dreamlike quality to them?"

"I think it has something to do with digging into that ten percent your mother always talks about," said Butler with a slight air of wisdom. "The storm certainly set the mood for an otherworldly discussion. Set the stage for a bit of unlocking."

"But that is just it," argued Artemis, undeterred. "The fairies—Haven, Holly, Foaly, Mulch, and the rest of them—they aren't unusual to me. Not anymore. Even talking about them as if they have some sort of mystical energy hovering around them is like acting as if two plus two equals five, or that the earth is flat."

"I don't think that's what is actually bothering you. For the first time, you're being forced to reconcile two worlds that you used to keep completely separate. It's bound to make you feel a bit off."

"Just in time for Samhain," Artemis mused. "Very appropriate."

He leaned back in the chair to get a glimpse out the window, allowing the white-hot lighting to illuminate his sharp features. "It's still coming down pretty hard. I suppose I should break out the stormy night collection. What do you think Butler? Dekker or Doyle?"

Butler put a lid on top of the bowl of strawberries. "I regret telling you about Minerva getting me into fiction," he said, then pulled blackberries out of the fridge. He preferred to make his syrups with fruits from the tart end of the spectrum. "As long as it isn't Jackson, pick whatever you want."

Artemis tilted his head in the manner of his namesake. "No Haunting of Hill House? Timeless. Don't let father hear that, it's one of his favorites.".

"Eh. I always thought you were a bit young for the concept of an insane mansion. You always kind of missed the point that the entire reason Hill House was able to create the mess it did was because whoever walked there, walked alone. For some reason, you latched onto that one, even if you were never completely alone," Butler said crisply. "And now that your mother is in the loop, you will never be alone again. I mean it. She may never let you leave your room again."

Artemis's mouth quirked into something resembling acknowledgement. "I will admit, I have always preferred the stories with a bit of magic in them."

Butler set the oven to pre-heat. "Since I have a feeling that you won't be sleeping any more tonight-,"

"You would be assuming correctly."

"-I would recommend A Wrinkle in Time. Not only is is also timeless, I think you'll really see yourself in it. Missing father, kid who overestimates his own intelligence, rogue eyeball,-"

"Point taken," said Artemis hastily. "Should I look for it in the family library or your personal one?"

"Depends. Do you want to read the dollar-store version or a first edition?"

Artemis rolled his eyes and slid off the stool he was sitting on. "See you later…ah..this morning."

"Maybe as payback for dragging me into this little discussion series of yours, you could start adding some workouts to your schedule. I really think krav maga-,"

A dust cloud appeared where Artemis once stood.

Twenty minutes later found Artemis armed himself with a novel and tea-one of life's most potent combinations- lowering into his favorite swivel chair, right across from an old velvet armchair that had recently become rather uncomfortable.

He smiled and opened the slim volume. There, in off-center type, was an opening line that rang truer than it knew: It was a dark and stormy night.

_Fin_


End file.
